Gone
by T.L. Imela
Summary: "Sam was gone. Those words didn't even make sense. Not really. Sure, Sammy had left before, but they had always found him again. They had always brought him back. Dean had always been able to convince him to come home. Not tonight. No tonight…Sam was gone." The night Sam leaves for Stanford. Pre-series.


**Gone**

Sam was gone.

Those words didn't even make sense. Not really. Sure, Sammy had left before, but they had always found him again. They had always brought him back. Dean had always been able to convince him to come home.

Not tonight. No tonight…Sam was gone.

Dean clenched his jaw, his hands itching at his sides. He hated just sitting here, not being able to do anything…to _change _anything. He _wanted_ to go out and to find Sam. Sammy had gotten pretty big over the course of last summer, but Dean was pretty sure he could still drag his ass home, if need be. After all, didn't Sam get that his family _needed _him?

_That Dean needed him_.

Dean shook his head. He had already said enough…and it hadn't mattered. Sam hadn't been swayed. And now he was gone. He was really gone this time.

It had all started at dinner tonight…_no, it had gone to hell at dinner tonight. It had __started__ when Dean had discovered Sam's Stanford brochure tucked neatly under the younger man's pillow. Dean's heart sank in his chest. Sammy had never even mentioned going to college before, not seriously anyway. Dad had made it clear before that there was no normal life for people like them. College wouldn't do them any good anyway. After all, college didn't teach you how to shoot a colt, or how to salt and burn a ghost, or take down a werewolf._

"_Hey, is Dad back yet? I think I found something out about that skinwalker you guys are tracking." It was Sammy, back from the library. Dean tried to shove the brochure back under Sam's pillow, but it was too late._

_Sam's eyes went wide and he clenched his jaw in dismay. "Hey, I told you to stay outta my stuff, Dean!"_

_Dean held up the brochure, accusingly. "Sammy, what is this?"_

"_Nothing, now give it back!" Sam snapped, trying to rip the paper out of Dean's hands._

_But Dean was not to be dissuaded that easily. "Why do you have a brochure for Stanford University under your pillow, man? Somethin' tells me this ain't gonna help us find that skinwalker, now is it?"_

_Sam's indignation melted as his eyes fell to the floor, clearly at a loss for what to say._

_Dean sucked in a deep breath, his temper starting to rise. It infuriated him when his brother did this kinda stuff, acting all secretive and quiet, before dropping some bombshell that Dean more likely than not had to help him clean up. "And when were you planning on telling anybody about this?"_

_Sam continued to stare at the floor. "I was just looking into it." He muttered, softly. "It's not a big deal, okay?"_

"_Not a big deal?" Dean demanded, incredulously. "Dad would kick your ass if he found out about this."_

"_Don't tell him." Sam insisted, pleadingly. "Please." He looked up at Dean, those damn puppy eyes all glassy, and suddenly Sammy was all of five-years-old again. Damn it. Dean could feel his anger softening, his indignation relenting. Damn it, damn it._

"_Alright, fine." Dean relented, hesitatingly. "But you need to get your head on straight, okay? Dad and I need you. You just turned eighteen, man. You need to take some responsibility for this family; you need to help us take down these sons of bitch monsters."_

_Sam said nothing. He continued to stare at the floor._

_Dean sighed. "Look, I won't tell him, but just don't mess around with this stuff anymore. Okay?" Dean tried to search Sam's face for any sign of understanding. "Sammy?"_

"_Look, I heard you the first time, alright?" Sam mumbled, softly. _

_Dean shook his head. Great. Now Sammy was gonna be in one of his moods. And Dad was sure to be in a mood after hunting all day. That was a sure recipe for disaster tonight…Dean couldn't wait to break up that fight. Son of a bitch._

Sam was alone. He usually hated that feeling, being alone. But this time was different. This time the loneliness came with a satisfying consolation prize…_freedom_.

He didn't actually think he would ever make it to this moment, walking down the broken concrete road, a slight chilly breeze rustling through his dark, thick hair. He shouldered all the belongings he ever owned in one duffel bag. He was sure not to look back…because if he looked back, it might turn out that it was all a dream. It might all crumble, and he'd be trapped once again, trapped within that _nightmare…_that suffocating cage that his Dad had long ago shoved him in. Sam had languished in that cage, all the while expected to be a quiet and obedient little birdy. Well, screw that. He had been quiet and obedient for far too long. He had finally taken a stand tonight, damn it, and it had been long overdue.

So, no, he wouldn't look back, not ever again…_ because it hurt too much to remember that Dean was still back there too._

Sam pursed his lips together in discomfort. That wasn't _his _fault. He had _asked _Dean to come, hell, he had begged him to come. It wasn't Sam's fault that Dean was so damn obedient to Dad, so much so that he couldn't even see what this life was doing to them. To their whole damn messed up family.

Sam continued down the dark road, searching for someone who would give him a ride, hopefully taking him further out west. He didn't know what he would do for money once he reached California. He could hustle pool, and running credit card scams were beyond simple with his laptop, but he didn't want to be that person anymore. He would figure something out. He would wait tables if he had to. That wouldn't be so bad…that might actually be kinda nice for a change.

_And living a nice, normal life might help him to feel…cleaner. Purer. Because deep down, Sam always felt something dirty and awful…something that needed ripping out…or scrubbing clean. Well, maybe he was doing that now…removing himself from all the poison in his life_.

Removing himself from hunting. From Dad's obsessive control over him.

_From Dean…_ Sam shook his head, resolutely. No, that wasn't his fault. He had asked Dean to come. He had begged Dean to come.

_It was dinnertime, and Dean had brought home a box of KFC extra crispy chicken. Sam didn't really like fried chicken; he was very particular about what he put into his body. He hadn't always been, he supposed, delighting in whatever crap food Dean scrounged up whenever Dad was away. But as he got older, Sam became more interested in self-betterment. He tried to explain the concept to Dean once, but Dean had just called it some 'wussified new age crap.' Whatever. It didn't matter, it made Sam feel better. Eating good food, going on runs, listening to soothing music, reading from all of the great philosophers…it was a process, Sam told himself. A process of being a better person…__of not being so dirty and awful inside._

"_Here, eat." Dean urged, shoving the box towards his little brother._

_Sam scrunched his nose in refusal. "No thanks, I'm good."_

"_Suit yourself." Dean shrugged, taking a seat next to Sam on the couch. "But this is all we've got until Dad gets back. So don't start bitching when you get hungry later."_

_Sam narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips at Dean, but said nothing. He finally had a minute to himself, as he was not needed at the moment for any research on any case. Dad was at the bar currently, and based on the man's mood earlier, he might be gone for most of the night. It gave Sam a chance to work on things…__college-related things__…like finding out where the nearest SAT testing center was located. The SAT was tomorrow and Sam needed to take it in order to finish the application process. Sam knew that most people had to register far in advance, but he wasn't most people. He knew how to hack the SAT site, how to put his name in the system, and how to be registered to take the test by tomorrow morning._

_Okay, maybe that wasn't good. But what else could he do? He needed to take the test and his family never staid in one place long enough for him to register in advance. It was actually fortunate that Dad would be hung over tomorrow morning, it would give Sam a chance to sneak away for a few hours._

"_What are you so focused on anyway?" Dean wondered, chewing on a piece of extra crispy._

_Sam stiffened slightly. He wanted to tell Dean, but he knew his older brother would not be happy. After all, Dean had told him to get his head straight and to leave the college application alone._

"_Nothing." Sam shrugged, most unconvincingly._

"_Nothing?" Dean reiterated, raising his eyebrows knowingly. "C'mon, what're you up to, Sammy?"_

"_Nothing! Eat your chicken, Dean." Sam insisted, defensively. He was a good liar when he needed to be…but somehow he always crumbled in front of Dean. Well, even if he had been more convincing, Dean would've known. Dean always seemed to know when Sam was hiding something._

_Dean sighed, turning around to face Sam. "Look, this isn't about what we talked about earlier is it? 'Cuz I'm pretty sure I told you to get your head straight on that one."_

_Sam grimaced; snapping shut the top of his laptop. "Look, Dean. Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to be…normal?"_

_Dean shrugged, incredulously. "What are you talkin' about, we are normal."_

"_No we're not, Dean. This __isn't__ normal." Sam insisted, desperate to try and make his brother understand…__how come he could never make them understand? He was supposed to be the quiet birdy stuck in the cage. Don't rustle your feathers, don't take up too much space. Just do what you're told and be happy. Well, he wasn't happy, damn it, why was that so hard for them to see?__ "What we do isn't normal. I just want to see what it's like…what it's like not to be a freak for once. I want to make a difference in the world."_

"_And what we do now doesn't make a difference?" Dean demanded, a bit angrily, and Sam could see that his statement had hurt his brother._

"_I didn't mean that." Sam insisted, trying to keep Dean from becoming defensive and closing up. "I just meant that—this work we do, it's dangerous. And I want a family someday…but not like this, not like us."_

"_And what's wrong with us?" Dean snapped, and Sam could tell that he was once again fighting a losing battle. His brother's refusal to listen to reason—to always go on the defensive, to ignore how wrapped up he was in this madness—made something hot and angry fester in Sam's chest._

"_Everything is wrong with us, Dean!" Sam shouted, bitterly. "All we do—__all__ we ever do—is just what Dad wants us to do. He just wants us to be the little soldiers in his obsessive war forever. Well, I want something for myself for once, okay?"_

_Sam watched as Dean's eyes hardened angrily. He knew he was pushing all of Dean's buttons, but at the moment he didn't care. Dean needed to stop burying his head in the sand and confront their father's crap. _

"_You're a selfish little bastard." Dean pointed out, infuriatingly._

"_Oh, am I?" Sam gave a humorless smile, trying to hold back all the biting and hurtful words that danced on his tongue. __Like how Sam might've been a selfish bastard, but at least he had a goddamn mind of his own._

"_Yes, you are." Dean reiterated, pointedly. He clenched his jaw before standing up and walking towards the bedroom. "And you aren't goin' anywhere anyway. Dad won't let you."_

"_I never said I was going anywhere in the first place." Sam snapped, bitterly. "I was just looking into things, Dean."_

"_Good. Keep it that way." Dean retorted, disappearing from the room._

_Sam slammed his enclosed fist on the small coffee table near the couch. Dean made him so damn mad sometimes. __Why couldn't he understand? _

_Maybe because Dean wasn't a freak. Maybe because there wasn't anything dirty and awful inside of him. Maybe because…_

_Sam opened up his laptop again in an attempt to busy his mind. __He didn't like thinking these thoughts. He just needed to be better, that was all. He could be better. He could take the SAT tomorrow, that would help make him better._

_It was a few hours later, when Dean emerged from the bedroom and made his way towards the kitchen._

_Surprise, surprise, he's already hungry again__. Sam thought, somewhat amused, if he hadn't still been so annoyed with his older brother at the moment._

_But a few minutes later, Dean emerged from the kitchen, a bowl of grapes in hand. "Here." He insisted, throwing the bowl down in front of Sam. "Eat this."_

_Sam looked up at Dean in surprise. "This for me?"_

"_Yeah." Dean shrugged. "You need dinner."_

_Sam felt a familiar warmth enter his heart. __This part of his world wasn't being trapped in a cage. This part was…nice. Being cared for by Dean…well, Sam would be lying if he said he didn't like it. It made him feel safe. Happy. This part was…well, this part was warmth, and comfort, and love. And it was during these moments that Sam, ever so briefly, didn't feel so dirty and awful. He felt…good._

"_Thanks, Dean." Sam gave a small smile, popping one of the grapes into his mouth._

"_Well, I couldn't have you bitching about being hungry, now could I?" Dean insisted, giving Sam a knowing grin. __This was a peace offering, Sam realized. Well, he'd take it. Dean might not understand him all the time, but he always gave Sam more benefit of the doubt than Dad ever did._

"_Jerk." Sam grinned, warmly._

"_Bitch." Dean shot back affectionately, sitting down on the couch next to Sam once again._

Sam was gone.

Dean slammed his fist up against the wall, so hard he nearly left a dent in it. _Damn it, Sammy_. He growled, bitterly. What the hell was wrong with that pain in the ass, anyway? Didn't he understand…didn't he understand that his family needed him? They were trying to avenge their _mother_, for god sakes, didn't Sam _get _that? And they couldn't do that without all three of them—they needed Dad, Dean, and Sam to make it work. Because they were family…_and Dean couldn't afford to lose anyone else. Not after losing Mom._

Dean could hear his father opening a bottle of liquor in the kitchen. _And even though he knew it was wrong, Dean felt his blood boil. The words 'it's your fault Sammy left' swam frighteningly through his mind. No, no. It's wasn't Dad's fault. He had to take a stand. Sammy was out of line…and was Dad the one who had made the final push…_

_Still_. If Dean was being completely honest with himself, he was mad at his father too, whether that was rational or not. _Dean had begged Dad to let him calm Sammy down. Sammy always listened to Dean. Dean had been dragging Sammy's ass back home since they were kids. He always brought Sam back, no matter how far away his little brother ever roamed. He could've done it tonight too, if Dad had just shut up long enough to…no. No, Dad did what he had to do. Sammy had been so far out of line._

_It had all gone to hell during dinner tonight. Dean had gone out to get food, in a pretty damn good mood for once. He and Dad had just ganked a werewolf. Damn, that had been exciting. Dean had put the silver bullet right through the bastard's heart. Dad even said he did a good job. Sammy seemed to be in a good mood too—he hugged Dean tonight for no reason at all, which was kinda weird, but whatever. Sometimes Sammy was just inexplicably full of sentimental crap like that, but Dean wasn't gonna complain. He'd take it—he liked having Dad, himself, and Sammy all feelin' good again like when they were kids. Like when Mom was still around._

_Dean brought back some fast food—burgers and fries—and he grabbed a salad off the dollar menu for Sam. Hell if he knew why Sam was suddenly being all fussy about what he ate—but the kid needed food anyhow._

"_Here…wuss food for you, some man food for me and Dad." Dean teased Sam, unpacking the rolled up, greasy paper bag. Sam made a face at him and Dean smiled inwardly. __Sammy was a good kid. If there was anything Dean was proud of in this screwed up piece of crap world, it was Sam. He had sucha good heart, but hell if Dean didn't need to give him crap for it at times. What are big brothers for, anyway?_

_But Sam didn't seem too dismayed. Dean grabbed his burger, glancing over at Sam curiously…his little brother was always the quietest one of the family, but Dean could always tell when something was up. And right now, Sam seemed to be bursting with all kinds of nervous energy._

"_You okay?" Dean asked, keeping his tone low enough so that Dad wouldn't overhear. He tried to keep Dad out of his conversations with Sam as much as possible. Sam usually dealt with Dad in cycles…shutting down and then exploding…rinse and repeat. But Sam trusted Dean. __And Dean was proud of that fact too._

_Sam broke out into a shy smile, the kind that tended to melt Dean's heart, although he would never let Sammy know that fact. __Maybe he met a girl. That would do him some good._

"_I, uh…I got some really great news, Dean." Sam beamed, his eyes sparkling with a kind of enthusiasm that Dean hadn't seen in years. "I want you to be the first to know."_

"_You got laid." Dean grinned, a bit teasingly. __But he was pretty sure that there was a girl involved somehow._

_Sam blushed, furiously. "Dean!" He snapped, as Dean chuckled. Sam gave a slight acquiescing grin, despite himself. "No, Dean. I, uh…" He bit at his bottom lip, giving a slightly nervous, toothy grin. "I got a full ride to Stanford. I did it, man, I got accepted."_

_Dean felt his heart sink to his stomach. A dark iciness wrapped itself around his insides and his throat tightened up. He felt sick…no worse…he felt betrayed. How could Sam do this to him? After Dean had __told__ him to leave it alone, damn it, he still went and applied anyhow? How could Sam __do__ that to him? Didn't Sam trust him? Didn't Sam know how screwed up this was…how pissed off Dad was gonna be? Nothing good would come from this, just a big, nasty fight with Dean left picking up the goddamn pieces as usual._

"_What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean hissed, flooded with a red hot anger. "I told you to leave it alone, didn't I?" _

_Sam's smile slowly slipped from his face, his eyes dropping to the floor like a puppy that had just been whacked with a newspaper. Good. He should feel like crap for what he had just done. Dean had trusted him to drop it, had done him a damn solid by not telling their father, who woulda rightfully kicked his ass._

"_Dean…" Sam trailed off, softly._

"_Didn't I tell you?" Dean demanded, grabbing Sam by the shirt and pulling him closer. __Sammy always had a way of breaking his heart, damn it. All those times he ran away from home…ran away on Dean's watch. It broke Dean's heart, and yet, Sammy never seemed to grasp that. He never gave a damn about what Dean went through—Dean who always had to pull Sam's ass outta the fire every single time. Well, hell if he wasn't about to do it again._

"_I thought you'd be happy for me." Sam murmured, barely above a whisper. "This—they don't give this to everyone. A full ride, Dean, this is…this is special."_

"_You're not goin'." Dean snapped, angrily. "I don't care how special it is, there ain't a damn thing that school can teach you that's worth learning. You're a hunter, Sam. That's what __we__ do. That's what this family does, and you are a part of this family."_

_Sam scoffed and Dean felt another stab go through his heart._

"_What? Aren't you a part of this family?" Dean demanded, something hot and furious starting to course through his veins._

"_Am I?" Sam countered, getting that irritating smartass look that Dean desperately wanted to wipe off his face at the moment. "'Cuz you and Dad always treat me like some mess-up. Like some child who can't figure anything out."_

"_Maybe 'cuz you always act like one." Dean spat, heatedly._

"_What's goin' on in here?" Dad asked, walking into the kitchen. Sam and Dean instantly fell silent. Dad looked at them curiously, "What are you boys fightin' about?"_

"_Nothing, sir." Dean insisted, quickly. __No matter how pissed he was at Sam in the moment, Dean was determined to handle this himself. Dad didn't need to know about this. Sammy would come around, he always did, and he didn't need Dad on his case, even if he mighta deserved it._

"_Actually, there's somethin' I wanna tell you, Dad." Sam replied, shooting a challenging glare towards Dean._

"_Sammy…" Dean insisted, matching his stare. __Don't do this. Dad's gonna flip, and you're gonna say somethin' stupid, and I'll have to clean up the mess. Don't put me through that. You know Mom woulda hated you two stubborn asses fighting all the time._

_But Sam had a determined glint in his eyes—he was too stubborn and too full of fire and vinegar and everything else that was wrong with Winchester men. _

"_Well, what is it, Sam?" Dad asked, pointedly. Dad gave Dean a look…__almost as if it was Dean's fault somehow that Sammy was so much trouble__…and Dean found that he could only stare at his shoes as he waited for the other one to drop._

"_It's, uh, it's actually good news, Dad." Sam tried to assure him, his hands going into the pockets of his grey hoodie, as if for comfort. "I…" He swallowed heavily, casting Dean another glance. But if he was hoping to find reassurance there, he was dead wrong. Sam was fooling himself if he actually thought that Dad was gonna be happy about this. Nonetheless, Sam pushed on. "I got accepted to Stanford University. A full ride. They—they don't give that to everybody either. It's, um, actually really amazing, I mean…"_

_Dad's eyes hardened. "You're not going." He replied, simply, but full of purposeful sternness. "Now let's eat."_

_Sam's mouth opened slightly in disbelief. "Dad…just—just listen to me for a second, okay? I mean, I don't think you understand what a big deal this is…"_

"_I already told you boys that college is a waste of time. They aren't gonna teach you a damn thing worth learnin'." Dad replied, a bit more firmly. "Plus, college would be a waste of your smarts, Sammy. Dean and I, we need you here."_

_God, Dad loved Sammy so much. Sammy could spit in his face, and their father would still love that kid more than he'd ever love Dean. It wasn't fair, damn it._

_As if to prove Dean's point, Sam just shook his head, firmly. "No…no you don't need me. You'd do just fine without me. I just slow you two down, hell, you said that yourself just last week…"_

"_You slow us down when you do damn fool things like this, Sammy." Dad snapped, angrily. "This discussion is over, you're not going."_

_Good. That put an end to that. Sam was sure to bitch and moan over the next few weeks, but he'd get over it. Dean would find a way to cheer him up, maybe he'd find a local baseball game to take Sammy to, or maybe they could go out and have a night on the town, just the two of them. Dean would take care of him; Sammy would be over this in no time. Just like all the other times that Sam had tried to run away…just like the time he had begged Dad to let him keep that stray dog…just like the time he had pleaded to stay in school just one more week so that he could go to some random kid's birthday party…just like all those other times, Dean would be there for his little brother and Sammy would get better. Sammy would realize that this is where he belonged…right by Dean's side. With Dad…the three of them against the world._

_But then something happened. Dean expected Sam to still have some fight left in him—hell, if he was being honest with himself, that feisty spark was something in Sammy that Dean even admired—but he wasn't at all expecting what happened next._

"_No, sir." Sam replied, squaring his shoulders and clenching his jaw. "I am going."_

_Dad and Dean both stared at Sam in shock. Sam mighta gotten into it with Dad all the time, but he __never__ disobeyed a direct order. There was a line that the boys always toed around their father, and disobeying orders was one they just didn't cross._

"_What did you say?" Dad demanded, incredulously._

"_I am going, sir." Sam repeated, more forcefully this time. He lifted his chin, his hands now trembling slightly at his sides. "They gave me a full ride. That's special, that's important."_

"_You ain't goin' anywhere, son." Dad replied, puffing out his chest. "Now you sit you're ass down."_

"_No…no, I __am__ going!" Sam hissed, his voice cracking slightly as his chest began to rise and fall more belabored. "I don't want to do this anymore, Dad. I don't want to be a hunter. I wanna go to school…it's all I've ever wanted."_

"_You're eighteen and you don't know what the hell you want." Dad retorted, raising his voice to match Sam's. "It'll be four wasted years, years you could spend gettin' better at trackin' down the son of a bitch that killed __your__ mother…"_

"_Just because __you__ don't know what I want, doesn't mean I don't!" Sam shouted, his cheeks flushing red. "It just means you never took the time to ask me!"_

"_Sam, knock it off…" Dean insisted, trying to push his way between the two men. "Both of you, please, let's just eat. C'mon, we're all tired and hungry."_

_Dean hated it when they fought. It made him feel so small and scared inside. Like his family was breaking apart from the inside…and Dean was nothing without either of them._

"_Sammy, I told you to sit you're ass down." Dad hissed, warningly._

"_And I told you __no__." Sam countered, his nose flaring and his jaw set. Dean had never seen him like this before. It was terrifying in a way…he knew Sam had a bit of a temper, but he had never talked to their father like __this__...Sammy usually had enough sense not to completely piss the man off beyond all reason._

"_Listen here, you little smartass, I better never hear you talk like that to me again." Dad snapped, grabbing Sam by the shirt collar. "You hear me?"_

"_Sam, c'mon…" Dean urged, helplessly. "Dad, just let me talk to him, I'll cool him down…"_

"_I'm gonna be a lawyer." Sam insisted, determinedly. "I can still do some good in this world, Dad, just let me do it in my own way…"_

"_You don't know a damn thing about the world, Sammy." Dad replied, desperately. "You're gonna get yourself killed out there."_

_There it was. The concern. The damn concern that he never showed Dean, not even tonight when a damned werewolf was about to rip Dean's throat out._

"_I'm not a kid anymore, Dad, I can take care of myself!" Sam shouted, bitterly._

"_Well, you're sure as hell actin' like one." Dad retorted, angrily._

_Sam clenched his jaw, his eyes spitting fire. Before he could say anything stupid, Dean tried to wrench them apart._

"_Dad, c'mon, lemme talk to Sammy…" Dean pleaded, but his Dad ignored him._

"_Sam, you're about to cross a line that you really don't want to." Dad seethed, taking several dangerous steps forward. "I spent my entire life protecting you! And I went easy on you, boy, easier than I ever went on anyone else. But I see now that I made a mistake, I shoulda put a stop to your whinin' and bitchin' long ago. This is our __life__, son, and you better start pullin' your weight startin' now."_

"_You went easy on me?" Sam demanded, giving a mirthless chuckle. "Everything I do is wrong. All I do is screw up in your eyes! You can't stand me; you think I'm this mess-up that needs constant supervision. Well, guess what, Dad? I—I got a full ride to Stanford. That means something, and if you weren't sucha obsessed bastard, you'd see that!"_

"_Sammy, knock it off, I mean it!" Dean snapped, grabbing onto his brother's shoulder and trying to pull him back. __They had fought before, but never like this. Never with this much venom. Dean had to stop them, before they both said things that couldn't so easily be unsaid. They were already skirting the line, and Dean needed them to knock it off, damn it, before they broke it into pieces too shattered for Dean to fix afterwards._

"_I can't believe what you're sayin' tonight. After all I've done for you, after all Dean has done for you, you just wanna high-tail it to school and be sittin' all fat and happy and turn your back on your family and the people who need you?" Dad seethed, angrily. "Sammy, I raised you better than this. If your Mom could see you now, she'd be so disappointed…"_

"_Screw you!" Sam burst out, pushing Dad away from him with an amount of anger that almost frightened Dean. Tears burned in Sam's eyes, his lips trembling. "Mom never knew me. Not really. But at least she has a reason; you were around my whole life and you STILL don't know me. What the hell is your excuse, Dad?"_

"_Enough!" Dad roared, sweeping his hand across the counter and knocking all of the food that Dean had bought to the floor. __And who the hell was supposed to clean that up? __"You have said __enough__. You aren't goin' any damn place and that's final. Hell, you'll be lucky to leave the motel room after this, Sammy."_

"_It's __Sam__." Sam snapped, pointing his finger warningly towards Dad's face. "And you aren't gonna control me for one more damn second. I'm goin' to Stanford. And there's no way in hell you're ever gonna stop me."_

"_Sammy!" Dean exclaimed in distress, trying desperately to pull Sam back again, but Sam heatedly shrugged him off._

"_Then you better get the hell out now." Dad replied, coldly._

"_Dad, no…" Dean felt as if he were practically begging now, and there was nothing worse than that. But he couldn't let this happen…he couldn't just stand by and watch this break to pieces. He had to do something…he had to save it. He needed them—both of them—damn it, he knew he couldn't survive without either one. __He needed Sammy, damn it, he'd rather die than lose Sammy.__ "C'mon, go sit down. Lemme have a few minutes to talk to Sammy alone…"_

"_No, Dean, Sam needs to hear this. I let him go too damn long without hearin' this." Dad responded, pointing a finger accusingly at his younger son. "If you're gonna walk out on this family than you do it tonight. And there's no comin' back, Sam. I'm serious. You walk out on your family, and we are __done__."_

_Sam blinked back disbelieving tears. Dean stared at his father in shock. __No coming back? No, no, no, he couldn't be serious. Dad loved Sammy too much for that. It might be something he would say to Dean, should Dean deserve it, but not Sammy. Sammy could do no wrong in Dad's eyes, not permanently anyway.__ Dean turned to face Sam, sure that now Sam would finally back down…__damn it, Sammy, just back down._

_But Sam merely clenched his jaw, his fists closing at his sides. He took in a deep breath, his gaze never breaking from their father's. He squared his shoulders and very slowly, very deliberately, rasped, "Go to hell."_

"_Get out." Dad seethed. "Get the hell out of my house."_

_Sam turned on his heels and made his way towards the bedroom. Dean took off after him, his heart pounding miserably in his chest. He flinched slightly, hearing Dad punch the wall from behind him._

_Dean found Sam stuffing all of his clothes and whatever bit of belongings he had into his green duffel bag. He put his laptop into his backpack and swung it over his shoulders._

"_Sammy, what the hell are you doin'?" Dean demanded, in shock._

"_You heard him. He told me to get the hell out." Sam spat, bitterly, as he zipped up his duffel bag and swung it over his shoulder. Then he added, sarcastically, "Well, I'm just followin' orders, Dean."_

"_Stop it. Stop __this__." Dean snapped, grabbing onto a fistful of Sam's shirt. "You don't wanna do this, okay? Now give the old man some time, he'll calm down and I'll talk to him…and—and everythin' is gonna be fine."_

"_Dean, you still don't get it." Sam sighed, bitterly. "I don't want this life anymore. I haven't wanted it for a long time. And tonight, I'm finally gonna do somethin' about it."_

"_No, __you__ don't get it!" Dean hissed, still clutching onto Sam as if he might somehow disappear into thin air. "You don't get to walk out on this family. This family is all we've ever had. And we need you, man."_

"_No, you don't need me, Dean." Sam replied, trying to detangle himself from his older brother's grasp. "You and Dad can go hunt monsters and I'll stop gettin' in everybody's way…"_

"_Cut the feel sorry for me crap, will ya? You don't wanna do this." Dean insisted, desperately._

"_Actually, I do, Dean. More than anything." Sam responded, softening slightly. He sighed, his eyes looking Dean over carefully. "Look, man, things don't have to change between us. But I can't live like this anymore." _

"_I'm not gonna let you walk out that door." Dean replied, firmly. __Sammy had tried to run away before…and Dean always brought him back every time. Whether he persuaded him back or had to drag his ass back, Dean made sure Sammy was safe at home every damn time they did this song and dance. And hell if he wasn't gonna do it one more time tonight. Sammy always knew how to break his heart, but damn if he still wasn't worth it._

_Sam shook his head, as if both endeared and frustrated by his brother's words. "Look, Dean, come with me. They've got work there…you could do anything you wanted. You like working on cars, right? I mean, you could work at an auto shop and I can get a job bussing tables or somethin', and we can split the rent. We'll have a home, Dean, a real home. It'll just be the two of us. I want you to come with me, Dean; I want you to have a life too."_

_Dean stiffened, his heart slowing to a crawl in his chest. __And he'd be damned if some small, quiet part of himself didn't wanna take Sammy up on that offer. Him and Sam…doing whatever they wanted, going wherever they pleased. Sam gettin' an education…Dean workin' with his hands. Hell, maybe Dean would finally get his GED, maybe he could even take a few classes at a local community college…maybe meet a nice girl, start a family…_

"_I do have a life, Sam." Dean replied, sternly. "It's with my family. And that's where your life is too, understand?"_

"_No, not anymore, Dean." Sam replied, firmly. "I just wanna be normal, I'm sick of always bein' a freak. Please…__please__, come with me. We can do this together."_

_Sammy had run away before. But this was the first time he had asked Dean to come with him. And Dean finally realized why—because this time was permanent. Because this time he was really leaving, this time it was for good. There was no dragging Sammy back home…no matter how much Dean wanted to pretend._

"_Please." Sam added, his eyes once more becoming like a dewy puppy's. __Damn, Sammy always knew how to break his heart__. "You and me, Dean."_

"_Sounds great." Dean shrugged, his own gaze beginning to blur with unshed tears. "You and me, Sammy. But not out there. Not runnin' away from our damn family! You and me, right here, right where we belong."_

"_That's Dad talking, not you." Sam whispered through gritted teeth._

"_No it __is__ me talkin', Sam!" Dean shouted, slapping his hands together for emphasis. "What the hell is wrong with you anyway? Why are you always runnin' away? Is there somethin' that screwed up inside of you, that you always need to do this? You always need to let me and Dad down like this?"_

_Sam closed his eyes tightly, his chest rising and falling heavily. When he opened his eyes again they were filled with tears. "I got a full ride to Stanford, Dean." He murmured, his lips trembling out each word._

"_That doesn't mean anything!" Dean cried out in disbelief. __How could Sam do this to him? How could he hurt him like this, after everything Dean had done for him…sacrificed for him…all the nights Dean had gone hungry so that Sammy could eat…all the times he had covered for him so he wouldn't get in trouble with Dad…all the times he had changed his diaper when Dad was off on a hunt, spoon-fed him, held his hand while he learned to walk, taught him to read, to write his name, gave Sammy his army men toys, taught him how to ride a bike, how to climb a tree, how to toss a ball, how to cast a line and catch a fish, washed his dishes, made the beds, cut his hair, patched up all of his scrapes and cuts, made tomato soup when he was sick and sang 'Hey Jude' to him, because Mom never could for Sam like she did for Dean. And Dean had never asked for a damn thing in return. Only this…only this.__ "That doesn't mean a damn thing to me. Now it's not __safe__ out there alone. You could get yourself killed."_

_Sam sighed, wearily, his tears still burning in his vision. "I'm sorry, Dean." He whispered, softly. "But I have to go."_

"_No, you don't hafta go, you're making a __choice__ to go." Dean growled, furiously. "You're making a choice to bail on your family…to bail on __me__!"_

_Sam closed his eyes, heat rising to color his face. When he opened them again, they were full of spit and fire. "I'm not bailing on you, Dean, I'm just not letting Dad control me anymore.'_

_Dean's jaw tightened, hot rage bubbling up within his chest. __Rage at Sammy or rage at himself, he wasn't sure which it was anymore. __ "Oh, and I am?"_

"_You just do whatever Dad says without question!" Sam snapped, his voice rising with his anger. "You always have. Well, not me, not anymore. I'm leaving, and that's it. And you can't stop me, Dean."_

"_Oh, yeah?" Dean demanded, taking an angry step forward. "You know how this always ends. You run away and I always hafta end up savin' your ass. Well, you might be all big and overgrown now, but that don't mean I can't still drag you right back home like before."_

"_Damn it, Dean!" Sam shouted, his rage barely contained now. His nose flared and his lips trembled even more, as if he were wrestling at something deep within himself. __This was a side of Sam that always slightly unnerved Dean. It didn't come out often, only in extremely rare and charged moments. Dean wasn't scared of Sam, hell, he knew he would always be able to kick his ass if needed, but there was an anger there that always made him wonder.__ Sam struggled to maintain his composure, sucking in a deep breath. "This time it's for good. You understand? I'm out. I'm done. I'm gonna be a lawyer, and…"_

_Dean shook his head, rubbing his hand against his mouth. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Sammy."_

"_Dean…"_

"_You're a damned selfish bastard, you know that?" Dean burst out, his heart breaking in his chest. __It literally pained him to hear Sammy talk like this. How could Sammy do this to him…how could he actually leave Dean? Leave Dean all alone…they needed each other, they were all they ever had._

"_Well, at least I've got a goddamn mind of my own, Dean!" Sam exclaimed, and before Dean knew what had happened next, he heard a small 'pop' in his head…and his fist collided with Sam's jaw…and Sam stumbled backwards with a stunned look of anger and hurt painted on his face._

_Damn it, Sammy. Damn it, damn it. Dean hated…he hated…he hated himself. He hated himself so much. He just wanted Sammy to want to stay so badly, but why would he…why should he…he had a goddamn mind of his own and he always had. And Dean was just a grunt, just a tool, just a blunt instrument to be used again and again. But not Sammy…Sammy was special. He got a full ride to Stanford, for god's sakes, he stood up to Dad tonight and told that obsessed bastard to shove it! And Dean had never felt angrier at Sam in his life._

_Sam sucked in a deep breath. Always trying to be so damn calm. Always trying to 'better himself' or some such crap. Dean wished he would just get pissed, would just slug Dean back for once._

"_Goodbye, Dean." Sam whispered, re-shouldering his duffel bag. He turned on his heels and marched out of the room._

_And Dean stayed behind. Dean stayed glued to the very spot where he and Sammy had just said goodbye. He heard Sam and Dad going at it again…__both of them could go to hell for all Dean cared right now, selfish bastards, both of them_..._before he heard Dad shout, "You walk out that door, don't you ever come back!" And there was a brief pause of silence…and for a brief second, Dean wondered…dared to hope…__but no__…the door slammed shut only a moment later._

Sam was gone. Just like that, his little brother was gone. Sure, their life hadn't been easy, hadn't been perfect, but at least they had family. At least they had each other. And Dean could never understand why Sammy didn't see that. How could he leave…how could he leave Dean all alone…_how could Dad tell him never to come back, when he was just going to school. And why did Dean fight with Sam when he should've been calming him down, making him want to stay…instead of driving him away…failing him…making him want to leave…and damn it, Dean had let Dad down before, but never Sammy. Never Sammy. He was always able to bring him home; no matter how many times Sammy had run. _

_And now, Dean had finally screwed that up too._

Dean punched the wall. He punched the wall again and again until the drywall broke, until his knuckles were scraped and bloodied, until they were covered in a mixture of red and white goo. Then he sank to his knees, his head buried in his hands.

Sammy was gone. And a small part of Dean, a part so far down he barely acknowledged it was even there, wondered why the hell he hadn't been able to go with him.

Sam was alone. Yes, he was alone, but he was finally _free_. And this mighta been the best he'd ever felt in a long time. For the first time in years, he felt _hope_. He saw a light ahead of him, he saw a job where he could actually help people without killing things and watching his family risk their lives, he saw a wife and kids, he saw a _home_. A warm home with a fire, and blankets, and a nice, comfortable bed, and a couch, and it never went away, it never changed, it never moved towns or cities or states. It just was. And there were neighbors and friends and they stayed too. And there were Sunday night dinners, and holidays, and Thanksgiving turkeys. And Sam wouldn't be a freak anymore…_he would be normal…he wouldn't be dirty or awful…he would be good…he would be clean…he would be pure._

_But there was no Dean_.

Sam blinked back his tears. Dean had always made him feel good. Dean had made him clean. And pure. Even in dirty motels, and endless car rides, and the sixth school in one year, and cheap, lumpy beds, and cold, freezing rooms, and scary thunderstorms, and during high fevers and chills. Dean had always taken whatever this screwed up, awful, dirtiness was inside of Sam and fixed it…if only for a moment. He made Sam feel safe…and warm…and good…and unknowingly, he even gave Sam the strength to stand up to Dad tonight. Because Dean was the bravest man Sam knew and Sam wanted to be just like him. Dean was _always _brave, all the time, and for that reason, Sam knew that he could be brave too. If only for tonight…if only for just that moment…if only for long enough to break through the bars of his cage and fly free.

No more quiet and obedient little birdy. Cages were safe, but they were suffocating. And Sam had sweltered and suffocated in his cage for far too long. It was time to make his own choices, to make mistakes…_and that would feel good too, because at least you had the chance to make them yourself_.

Sam finally waved down a truck. An old woman was driving it and she seemed harmless enough. If she was concerned about letting a big, 6'4" man climb into her passenger seat, she didn't show it. Sam had a way about him that always seemed non-threatening, and for that he was glad. _The one upside to being a caged birdy…you learn how not to take up space, how to make yourself seem smaller and non-intimidating._

Although, it wasn't too long ago, that Sam had _actually _been small. He was always shorter than Dean, had been all his life, until last summer when his body went through a rather intense growth spurt. He just kept getting taller…finally even taller than Dean…_which secretly pissed Dean off, Sam knew, but Sam couldn't have been more pleased_…and he got bigger and stronger. Some of this was due to self-betterment, and some due to genetics_…and some of it due, he wondered ever so quietly to himself, to that nasty dirtiness he could never scrub clean_.

Well, none of that mattered anymore. Sam was going to be better now. This normalcy, this un-freakish lifestyle, this beautiful, brand new world of structure and stability…it was gonna _purify_ him.

_Sammy had run away from home several times before. The last time was when he was fifteen. He got his own motel room using fake I.D. and ordered a veggie pizza, which nobody ever let him get, because Dad and Dean liked pepperoni. He even smuggled in his own beer from home…he felt very adult drinking it…and a tad guilty too, but he and Dean had snuck them before back home. He wished Dean was here right now to enjoy it with him…but it was always so hard to make Dean understand this part of him. This was the one part of him that Dad didn't understand…that Dean didn't understand…that Sam didn't even understand sometimes. There was something __different__ about him, at a fundamental level. He wasn't normal…at times, he wondered if he was even human. He had read myths as a child about the Norse gods stealing frost giant babies and raising them as their own. He had wondered once whether his father had done the same—stolen him from some supernatural creature to raise as his own—if maybe Sammy was just some trophy from a successful hunt. That would explain a lot._

_He even asked Dean this once, and although Dean usually loved to tease Sam when he asked ridiculous questions, this time Dean was very serious and adamant._

"_No, Sammy." Dean insisted, seriously, his bright green eyes darkening at the insinuation. "You're my brother. You're not a monster."_

_And he believed Dean…because Dean never lied to him. __Then why did he always feel so dirty…so unclean…__and he would always believe he wasn't a monster for as long as Dean believed the same._

_Sammy was gone for only five days before Dean found him. Dean was pissed, of course. He tore into Sam with unbridled gusto, but it wasn't out of an obsession to keep him locked safely away in a cage, like Dad's love always felt. Dean was angry because he was scared and lonely too. And he loved Sam…a good love that felt protective and warm rather than smothering. Yes, sometimes Dean could smother…but only when he thought it was what Dad wanted. When it was just Dean…__just his big brother__…Dean made Sammy feel safe…and good...and pure. Sam knew sometimes he was too old for it…too old to be called Sammy, too old to have Dean make him his food, too old to have Dean check his scrapes and mother hen him. But sometimes Sammy didn't care. Like right now, after Dean had finished his yelling…shouting how he was gonna drag Sammy's ass back home __right now__…now…Dean was pulling him into a tight hug, clutching onto him with both arms. Sam buried his nose into his brother's shoulder, still small enough to be enveloped entirely by the embrace. Then Dean was asking him if he had enough to eat and drink over the past five days…whether Dean should go get him food._

_Sam pointed out that there was still beer in the room, and Dean relented. They both knew Dad would give them hell if he caught them, and that's what was fun about it. Dean and Sam clinked their bottles together…just as they had when they snuck beer together the first time, partners in crime as always…and sat back on the lumpy motel room beds and drank in silence._

_Finally, Dean spoke up. "I don't get it, man." He sighed, rubbing his hand to his mouth. "Why do you always do this?"_

_Sam shrugged. "I dunno. I just wanna get away from Dad sometimes, I guess."_

"_He's a good dad." Dean responded, firmly._

"_To you." Sam replied, shortly. "I can never do anything right."_

"_You could if you weren't always so busy being a stubborn smartass." Dean pointed out, taking another swig of beer._

_Sam made a face. "I dunno, Dean. I think I'm just different from the two of you."_

_Dean pursed his lips together, obviously displeased with that answer. Sam decided to change the subject, "So how did you find me?"_

"_Who else would check in as Lando Calrissian?" Dean grinned, rolling his eyes._

_Sam smiled, despite himself. A part of him was anxious to go back home…scared to face Dad after having disobeyed him, dissatisfied with being shoved back into the cage. But another part of him was glad Dean had found him. Dean always found him. Dean always dragged his ass back home, no matter how many times he ran._

Sam was alone. But he was free. That was good…_but Dean was left behind, and that was bad. That was painful. That hurt like hell._

Sam pressed his forehead up against the cold glass of the nice, old woman's truck. He hadn't liked losing his temper tonight, not with Dad…_and especially not with Dean_. That always made him feel even dirtier and even more awful. Sometimes his anger scared him…_sometimes he just wanted to run away from it_.

And sometimes…_if he was being very honest with himself_…that's why he liked to run so much. Because it wasn't really Dad, or hunting, or even being the weird, new kid all the time…_and especially not Dean_. It was because he was…_unclean_. And maybe if he ran far enough…_fast enough_…he could escape it…he could rip it out…scrub it clean…cleanse himself in newness and structure and stability and freedom.

Sam was gone. He had escaped his father, he had escaped hunting, he had escaped loneliness and isolation, he had escaped turmoil and uncertainty, he had escaped messiness, he had escaped being overlooked and unheard, he had escaped his dismal cage.

_But the one person you never can escape…the dirty, unclean, awful part of himself whispered as he stared out the windowpane and at the rolling Midwestern scenery…the one person you never can escape is yourself._

Sam shook his head in dismay. No…he could be better. He had to believe that, he had to believe that it wasn't just _him_…that he could someday be better. He could eat better foods, he could take better care of himself, he could be smarter, stronger, better…_cleaner…purer._

Sam was alone. And for a moment, the reality of that sunk in…_he was alone and Dean wasn't here with him_. But Dad had given him an ultimatum and Stanford hadn't. Funny, how that can make any hard decision that much easier. _Still, he missed Dean_. But he couldn't go back and Dean couldn't drag his ass home this time. No, because this time he was never going to stop running. His cage was finally smashed to bits and no could ever shove him back in. His wings were small and fragile from a lifetime of being a quiet and obedient little birdy…of keeping them folded, of not taking up too much space, of always being suffocatingly safe.

It would take some stretching, some patience, some practice…but he would learn to fly on his own. _After all, he had a good teacher…it was Dean who had given him the strength and bravery to do this in the first place. And even though Sam had run away for good this time, he would never forget the love…the warmth…the goodness that had been Dean. Dean was pure…Dean was clean…Dean was so very good...and maybe…maybe…some of that had rubbed off on Sam over the years. As he tested his newly stretched wings out for the first time, he could only hope that was the case._


End file.
